


Nothin' But Blue

by newsoftheworld



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Dissociation, Fred is only mentioned, Major Depression, Self-Loathing, my interpretation of the inspiration for "nothing but blue", takes places the day before freddie's death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 17:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19024516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsoftheworld/pseuds/newsoftheworld
Summary: Falling back against the mattress, Brian brings a hand to his chest. The faint murmur of his heart resonates against his fingertips, and he laughs—an empty sound.I don’t feel alive.





	Nothin' But Blue

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this during one of my flights today—I've been meaning to do a blurb similar to this, but got inspired after listening to the entirety of ''Back To The Light' for the billionth time.
> 
> Quick backstory—Brian has said that he wrote 'Nothin' But Blue' the day before Freddie's death because he felt it was coming soon. I (obviously) have no idea how he coped with Freddie's passing, but this is what flowed out of my fingers today.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Hate it or love it, I appreciate the comments :)

The ticking of a clock echoes across the room. Brian blinks awake, gray walls greeting his sleep-blurry eyes. Consciousness seeps into his thoughts, dark shadows projecting onto the wall of his mind. 

_What time is it?_

_Does it matter?_

Reaching up to rub his eyes, he’s surprised to feel the damp tracks of residual tears. He’s surprised, that is, until yesterday’s events begin piecing themselves back together, fragments of dormant memory resurfacing, until…

Rolling onto his side, Brian claps a hand to his mouth and heaves a pathetic sob. It all feels like some twisted dream, an altered reality. Someone so strong-willed, so incredible, couldn't possibly be taken from the world _this_ easily. But as his shoulders shake, eyes screwed shut with grief, he knows it isn’t a dream.

And Brian has a sinking feeling it’ll all be over tomorrow.

As the tears trickle down his cheeks and onto his pillow, he can’t stop the feeble chuckle that forces itself from his lungs. _He’d think me a right git, moping about like this._  

Hopelessness. _Is that what I’m feeling? Pathetic._ His limbs sink into the mattress, heavy under the weight of immense melancholy. His hand, propped up underneath the pillow, begins to go numb. _Good._ It’s a strange thing, numbness. All his life, it’s been presented as something undesirable, something horribly uncomfortable. But as Brian lies there, shallow breaths rasping in the quiet morning air, he decides he quite enjoys the absence of feeling.

That incessant ticking. It fades in and out, swirling in the vacuum of sadness, regret, denial. He desperately tries to avoid recalling how frightfully frail Fred’s body looked. _Helpless_ . The untameable spirit of his best friend, trapped within that useless shell. It wasn't _fair._ Anger flares in his veins, but just as quickly, it dissipates. _What’s the use?_

Gray. A thick, gray fog settles among his thoughts, subduing activity and rendering him blissfully thoughtless. _Am I floating?_ Hazy eyes glance down to look at his hands where they lay, unmoving. He tries to lift them, tries to wiggle his fingers, but nothing happens. _Huh. Maybe I’m dying, too._

Minutes, hours pass by. Morning and night blur together—it’s all the same to him. He coughs, throat hoarse from crying. _This is pathetic, really._ A phone rings and it sounds a million miles away.

Brian twists underneath the covers, surprised to see the phone sitting on his nightstand. But he lets it ring, the shrill sound piercing his ears. He relishes in the discomfort, holding onto the thought that someone must be thinking of him. _But it’s not me they should be thinking about. Christ, I don't need their pity. It's not about me._ He frowns.

_We could've grown old together._ The thought comes before he can restrain it. _We could've spent more time together. I could've been less of an ass. I could've visited him more, I could've…_ He watches himself sit up, as if in a trance. It doesn’t feel like he’s moving, and yet he sees his hand reach for the bedside drawer. Pulling out his handheld voice recorder, Brian stares at the small metal gadget. Something is bubbling in his chest, clawing to get out. It feels poisonous, and for a moment he thinks he might be sick.

But as the nausea subsides, Brian watches his thumb slide over the ‘record’ button. He presses it.

_Why?_

Silence. 

Falling back against the mattress, he brings a hand to his chest. The faint murmur of his heart resonates against his fingertips, and he laughs—an empty sound. _I don’t feel alive._

“I can’t stop wondering how things might have been.” 

The words form on their own, his lips moving robotically. He isn’t sure where they come from, but he feels… relieved. He pushes back the hair from his face, pricks of feeling returning to his fingertips.

“I keep thinking, keep thinking I’ll be seeing you soon.”

_But the truth keeps rushing back._

A single tear slips from the corner of his eye, forming a rivet down his temple and into his matted locks. _What’s the use in crying?_ _It’s not what he would do._ Guilt seeps into his chest and he wallows in self-disgust. A grim smile curls the edges of his lips.

“I’ll try. ‘Just keep on fighting through,’ like you always used to say. You were always so good at that.”

Blinking slowly, Brian stares blankly at the gray ceiling. It seems darker now, saturated with gloom. Blindly clicking the ‘stop recording’ button, he lets go of the device with a sigh. _Maybe later._

The monotonous emptiness of his mind begins to lull him back to sleep, the dark tendrils of remorse wrapping around his wrists and pulling him deeper into the mattress. It feels good to give in, and so he does. After all, he’s nothing but blue—dark, darkest blue. Another nap won’t do any harm.

_Nothing but blue._


End file.
